


Demand

by AdventTraitor



Series: Shamed [1]
Category: Persona 5
Genre: M/M, akeshu - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-03
Updated: 2017-09-03
Packaged: 2018-12-23 06:07:39
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,047
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11983764
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AdventTraitor/pseuds/AdventTraitor
Summary: Maybe calling Akechi to jerk off to the sound of his voice isn't the best idea Akira has ever had...but damn if it doesn't feel good.





	Demand

**Author's Note:**

> Actual masochist Akira Kurusu: confirmed

Akira held his phone close to his face, squinting at the screen to read without his glasses on. It was late, the sky beyond the windows completely dark (and had been for some time now). Morgana had skipped out on him some time before, a comment about fatty tuna waiting for him in Futaba’s room as his tail flicked around the corner and down the stairs. He scrolled through his messages, people wanting to hang out, queries about visiting the palace, the Thieves’ chat…

He lingered on Akechi’s icon, thinking about his face, how his hair fell into his eyes, framed his face perfectly, his _voice_ …

A shudder ran down Akira’s spine, eyes closing as his free hand slid almost teasingly down his side, fingers playing with the waistband of his sweatpants before sliding underneath. He gasped softly, imagining Akechi’s hand wrapping around his cock instead of his own, thought of his lips against his ear, whispering something hot and degrading as his weight pushed down on him, kept him in place—

Akira’s eyes snapped open when his phone lit up, still held loosely in his hand. Swallowing, he pulled his hand out of his pants and opened the message; a drunk text from Ohya that he could barely decipher, nothing to bother replying to. He sighed, about to turn the screen off when a half-formed idea began to take shape in his mind. A very bad half-formed idea, he could tell, but his fingers were already pulling up the contacts list, and scrolling until they hovered over Akechi’s name. Akira bit his lip, hesitating for only a moment before he hit the dial button. He pulled the phone up to his ear with his left hand, already hearing the line ring.

It’s late, he thought, late enough that even Akechi must surely be asleep by now—

“Kurusu-kun? Is everything alright?”

Akira nearly choked on his own spit, but recovered spectacularly to answer only a moment later than normal.

“Uh…yeah.” After a moment of thought, he continued, “It’s late. Why are you still awake?”

Akechi chuckled from the other end, a light noise that went straight to Akira’s cock. “I should be the one asking that question. You called me, remember? Was there a reason? It _is_ nearly one in the morning…” he trailed off.

“Can’t sleep,” Akira answered truthfully after a moment. his right hand wandering back down his own stomach, raising goosebumps as they skimmed lightly on his skin.

“I see. And you decided to call _me_?”

Akira closed his eyes and focused on keeping his breathing normal as his hand dipped into his sweatpants once again, teasing at his balls for a few moments before wrapping around his erection once more.

“I did.”

“Alright, then…um…” Akechi chuckled again, and Akira squeezed harder as he fisted his hand up and down his cock, taking in a silent breath. “I admit, I’m not sure what to say to that.”

“Tell me what you’re doing right now,” Akira suggested, swiping his thumb over the tip.

“What I’m…doing? Currently, just going over case files. There’s always more work to be done, evidence to be gathered, people to interrogate…” he continued on. Akira could imagine being interrogated by Akechi, thrown onto the ground with his hands tied behind his back, Akechi stepping on his wrists, his back, the side of his head, grinding him down into the dirt… “…but it’s mostly paperwork, you know. The monotonous stuff. Police work is glamorized as going out every morning and busting some crime lord, but that hardly happens on a regular basis,” he commented, a smile evident in his voice.

_Punish me wearing that smile,_ Akira thought desperately, hips bucking up into his hand at the thought.

“Sounds kinda boring,” Akira added after a moment of silence, anything to keep him talking.

“Hmm, I suppose that would be the normal response. I don’t really mind, however. It’s nice to be able to work quietly with a cup of coffee. It’s why I favor Leblanc, really; quiet, space to read, and delicious coffee. You and Sakura-san truly make the best coffee I’ve ever had.”

Akira’s back arched, his hand working furiously under his sweatpants, squeezing harder every time he reached the tip, imagining Akechi on top of him, inside of him, bruising his skin and teasing him until there was nothing he could do but beg for mercy—

“I do find it interesting that curry paired with coffee should be such a favorable combination. Spice and bitterness aren’t two things I would think of as complimentary, but…somehow it works perfectly. Sakura-san truly is a master of the culinary arts.”

“He is,” Akira agreed breathlessly, biting the inside of his cheek to keep from gasping into the speaker of his phone.

“I must wonder why such a great chef chooses to remain in a back-alley neighborhood—ah, no offense intended. I simply imagine he could easily open a cafe in a busier area, and generate more profit for himself.”

“He could,” Akira answered, unable to continue any further. _Close, so close…_

“Hmm…perhaps it’s for the best. I enjoy it for its solitude, as I mentioned before.”

Akira buried his face into his right shoulder as he came, holding the phone a few inches away to keep his stifled moan from reaching the speaker…hopefully. After taking a few moments to catch his breath, he pulled the phone back up to hear Akechi still rattling on about the curry and wondering what ingredients went in, and on and on. Akira smiled, his voice still as pleasant in the afterglow.

“He wouldn’t think about sharing his recipe, would he?”

“No, I don’t think so,” Akira answered languidly, wiping his soiled hand on the outside of his sweatpants. He needed to do the laundry anyway. “Though it’d be amusing to see his reaction if you asked,” he continued, thoughts easier to string together now that all of his blood wasn’t rushing to his dick. “You should come by and ask while I’m working. I’d love to see it.”

Akechi was quiet for a moment, then a soft chuckle, somehow darker and less friendly, sounded over the line.

“Are you quite finished, now?”

Akira frowned. “Huh?”

“You called possibly the most observant person you know, and didn’t expect me to pick up on what you were doing? I’m not a fool.”

Akira’s eyes widened, swallowing uneasily as Akechi’s voice changed somewhat, a cunning edge to his tone and the loss of the lilting, lighthearted cadence to his words.

“It wasn’t something I expected of _you,_ of all people…it rather intrigues me. Did you enjoy it? Jerking off to the sound of my voice?”

Akira was frozen, unsure of how to respond—perhaps even unable to to respond, at this point.

“Come now, no need to be shy about it. I’m not wrong, am I?”

“…No…” Akira managed, though the word stuck in his mouth as he tried to wrap his mind around the fact that he’d been caught red-handed.

“Then tell me how good it was.” It was a command, one that Akira was compelled to obey.

“The best I’ve ever had,” he answered helplessly, a twinge running down his spine, even as his body complained that it was spent.

“Really? That’s just sad. How pitiful your love life must be.”

Akechi’s voice was cold, sneering, and if they’d been in person, Akira would have dropped to his knees and begged to suck his cock. As it was, his breath caught, goosebumps rising on his skin as Akechi continued.

“I guess it can’t be helped; you _are_ a delinquent after all, not good for anything. A waste of time and effort.”

Akira found himself nodding, his free hand sliding back down to the waistband of his pants, playing with the drawstrings while he waited for the energy to return to him.

“You’re already wanting to touch yourself again, aren’t you?” A mirthless laugh sounded from the other side of the line, causing Akira to shudder. “You really are the definition of a _wanting whore._ ”

“I am,” Akira agreed quickly, biting his lip, his breath coming faster. “I’m not good for anything, I just want you…”

“And what makes you think you’re good enough to even touch me? Worthless trash,” Akechi scoffed, causing Akira to let out a whine. He palmed himself through his pants, already half-hard.

“I’m not, I’m not, please…”

“Please? Begging already? I can’t say I’m surprised, coming from a slut like _you._ ”

“Yes,” Akira hissed, his hand pushing his sweatpants low on his hips to pull at his erection unhindered. “Yes, always, for you,” he gasped.

“I bet you can come on command too, hm?”

Akira moaned, squeezing hard at the base of his cock. “Anything you want,” he breathed heavily.

“Anything? Even if I wanted to push your face into the floor and make you lick up your mess?”

“Yes, yes,” Akira gasped, his cock jumping at the thought. “Push me down, step on me,” he moaned.

“You would like that, wouldn’t you? How far apart are your legs spread right now?”

Akira glanced down to where his thighs were struggling to stay open against the elastic of his sweatpants. A quick push and they pooled at his ankles, where he quickly kicked them off. His legs splayed open instantly, hips bucking up into his hand as he worked his cock hard.

“As far as they can,” he answered, swallowing with difficulty.

“Whore,” Akechi replied, a dark smile in his tone. “Put your fingers inside. Stretch yourself out for me.”

Akira whimpered, coating his fingers in his own seed until they were dripping, before twisting his bottom half to the side to reach behind and press against his entrance. His breath became ragged as he worked his index finger in, soft exclamations leaving his lips as he pressed in to the knuckle.

“Don’t come until I allow you to,” Akechi commanded, his voice smooth and low and full of dark promises. “How many do you have inside now?”

Akira nodded, forgetting Akechi couldn’t see him. “Putting in…the second one, ah…”

“Tell me how it feels,” Akechi growled.

“Not…not enough, not…I need more,” he cried, squeezing his eyes shut as he scissored his fingers, pushing in as far as he could and rolling his hips back into them. “I need you,” he moaned, turning into a cry as he pushed a third finger in and squeezed around them.

“Did you just come?” Akechi asked calmly, tone accusatory.

“N…no,” Akira groaned, pushing in and rutting down against his own hand. “I need you, need,” he said biting his lower lip, eyes glazing as coherent thought left him completely. “Please, please, please,” he repeated over and over, his hand working harder as his hips thrust sank back.

“Please what, Akira?”

“Please,” he gasped, “fuck me, yes, yes—“

“Do you want to come, you worthless criminal?”

“Yes, please…”

“Fine. Come all over yourself like the disgusting piece of trash you are.”

Akira cried out, tears pricking at the corner of his eyes as he pulled his fingers out, rolling onto his back and jerking his cock hard. Moments later, he spilled himself hard, come shooting out over his chest and stomach as he shrieked.

It took a minute for him to reorient himself, breathing heavily. He wiped at his saliva dripping down his chin, but only managed to wipe his come over his face instead.

“I…I’ve never come that hard in my life,” he admitted into the phone, voice low and raspy.

Akechi chuckled, some of the lightness back in his tone. “It certainly sounded that way. You have…interesting tastes, Kurusu-kun.”

“I want to taste you,” he responded without missing a beat, mind still drifting in the afterglow of his second orgasm.

“Ah, well…hm. I’m…sure that could be arranged.”

Akira’s eyes widened, mouth opening to say…something. 

“Until then,” Akechi continued before he could think of the right words, “do try to behave yourself. I’m sure I’ve enough to punish you for as it is.”

Akira bit his lip.

“Goodnight, Kurusu-kun.” The line went dead.

Akira felt his face heat up again, eyes wide, before he turned and buried his face in his pillow.


End file.
